


If Wishes Were Horses

by orphan_account



Series: Conversation [1]
Category: EastEnders
Genre: Chryed, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 16:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't want it to change things</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Wishes Were Horses

If Wishes were Horses

 

 

He found him in the kitchen, quietly, determinedly cutting carrots into the tiniest chunks he could. He looked up as Syed came in, but turned away, offering a smile to the pile of carrots, not to Syed. Syed wondered if he realised he did that; that he clearly telegraphed his mood by doing that. Next he'd make some sort of light-hearted quip to accompany the smile, apparently not realising that the smile only mattered when it was directed his way; when it was sincere and not a cover for what he was really feeling.

He didn't touch him; wanted to, but didn't, since he knew it would only needlessly complicate an already complicated situation.

Would there _ever_ come a time when they would be allowed to lead lives of simplicity; free to just be with each other, love each other, like everyone else in the world? He'd honestly assumed that once they got together – properly, for keeps – then the complications would lessen, not increase.

No, he _should_ touch him, convey to him in the way he knew words never would just how he felt, how this made no difference to them, to the way he felt about them. But that brittle smile acted like a barrier, a stop sign, telling him clearly, loudly, that Christian wasn’t in a place where he could hear that and have it mean what Syed intended it to mean.

They'd been at the edge many times before; the point where he'd felt there'd be no turning back, no mending anything, no forgiving or forgetting, but this was different. It hit at the very heart of who they were, what they wanted their relationship to mean.

He and Christian had always been different: different perspectives on life, different personalities, and at times he'd been sure that their differences would be too much, just a little too much for the love to withstand, but no, it never had been. So he supposed he'd got pretty used to that, used to the knowledge that while they might stretch and stretch to the point of breaking, in the end they'd always snap back to true, stronger than ever in many ways. And while, yes, they were stronger than ever there was also an awareness now that there _were_ weak points, which meant, of course, that there'd be even more care taken to avoid putting stressors on those points. It was actually similar, yet wholly different from the relationship he had with his mother: he knew that Christian would love him no matter what, whereas he quite frankly no longer felt that way about his mother.

Ironic that he'd always been reticent about relationships for that very reason – the love wasn't ever likely to be unconditional – unlike the love of a parent for her child, say. Wow, had he ever got that one wrong! He was aware that Christian held his opinions in check much of the time, out of respect, out of love – for him. He knew this to be so, because Christian was the sort of guy who bloody well said what he thought and sod anyone who minded.

He'd always taken care with Syed's feelings.

Of course there had been times when he'd lost it, been so frustrated – or drunk – that he'd given Syed a right earful, told it exactly like it was, but he'd more often than not been apologetic afterwards, sorry that he'd wounded him, home truth or not. And Syed had appreciated this: after the wounds his parents had dealt he truly appreciated the knowledge that his hurts hurt those who loved him _just_ as much. He couldn't understand how you could claim to love someone and not be hurt by the fact, the knowledge that they were hurting. Didn't matter how much his mother had wounded him, he was _never_ going to be happy seeing her in pain. To him that was a simple fact and function of love. So to see Christian in pain now crippled him, made him recall, vividly relive those awful times when he'd clawed at Christian's heart, known he was doing it, hated himself for doing it, but kept telling himself it was the right thing, the _only_ thing to do. What was right for him had taken precedence over any hurt Christian might have experienced, and yes he could accept that, regret it, of course, but accept that at the time he hadn't been capable of anything other than that response. Things were different now – _he_ was different.

He knew that seeing Yasmin had hurt Christian on multiple levels: the feeling that Syed had done what he could not; that Syed forever had a bond with his child that he'd never achieve; that he had a bond with Amira that for all they love _they_ shared he really couldn't hope to replicate. And for all that he could seek to r _eassure_ Christian, knew that so far as Christian was concerned those were trump cards – an unplayable hand.

But he was wrong; Syed was no longer that man, the man who would put everyone else before him. He was a father, and that was a fact – he needed to be a father to his child – yet he also needed to be in a secure and fulfilling relationship with the man he loved. He would find a way to make that happen, but he first needed to do some repair work here and now.

“Talk to me?” He kept his distance, electing to allow Christian his responses without being hampered by the weight and colour of Syed's needs.

Christian didn't respond immediately, chopping still with the concentrated attention Syed knew was never there when _he_ was in the room.

Syed patiently waited.

“She's beautiful.”

Syed smiled, couldn't help himself. “I know. I've always wanted a little girl.”

“Me too.”

Syed's smile faded a little at the depth of sadness in those two words, and now he couldn't hold back any longer, just _had_ to touch him.

Christian was warm; he was always warm, even in the depth of winter he seemed to give off heat – Syed's own personal hotwater bottle. “I love you,” he told him, arms around his waist, lips against the smooth skin of his neck. “You know that, don't you?” Actually this was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid: making it all about him, all about testing/proving their love.

Christian was relaxed, certainly less tense than Syed had been expecting. Carefully wiping his hands on a handy tea towel he placed them over Syed's and squeezed. “I do know, love, and I hate that you feel you need to keep assuring me of that.” When Syed started to speak, he hushed him. “I'm not going to pretend that this hasn't knocked me a bit off kilter and I'm not going to pretend either that I haven’t spent a significant amount of time calling you all the names under the sun, hating you for sleeping with her – _without_ protection – but the point is how could I, really, when _she's_ the result?” Turning, he changed their positions so that he was now the one with his arms around Syed's waist, pulling him in close before placing a carefully deliberate kiss on his mouth. “I know things are going to be hard, but promise me something?”

Snuggling into Christian's chest, Syed silently nodded, willing to promise him _anything_. Christian carded a gentle hand through Syed's hair, the fingers of his other hand creeping under the edge of Syed's shirt, nails scratching teasingly against the skin of his sensitive back.

“Promise me that no matter what happens, no matter how hard things get we keep talking, we don't hide things from each other. I'm not asking you to choose me over your daughter, Sy. You know I'd never do that. I just-” He did seem a little tense now and Syed raised his eyes so that he could see his face. When their eyes met Christian gave him a reassuring smile , stroking an affectionate finger across his cheek. “I just don't want us to go anywhere near how we were in the early days – keeping secrets, wanting different things and not being honest about it. We're a couple now, Sy, yeah? Together – for better or worse?”

Syed, grinning, reached up to kiss him. “Steady on, we haven’t taken those vows yet.”

Christian rewarded him with a grin of his own, sliding his hands suggestively down his lower back... “True, but that's just the formality, right? Pretty sure I've taken them, ceremony or not.”

Syed didn’t reply, just kissed him more deeply this time, wondering yet again how the hell he'd managed to hold on to this when everything seemed designed to tear them apart. And Christian was right, of course, it had always been the lack of communication, the lack of honesty that had caused damage, though in the early days it had been his unwillingness to acknowledge who he was, which had caused the _most_ damage. That was never going to happen now – he'd gone beyond that, well beyond that. But he also knew that he had a weakness: the willingness to try to have his cake and eat it - at the expense of others. He wanted to find a way to have Yasmin in his life, yet do that without hurting Christian, and the tendency was to achieve that by being less than completely transparent – seeing her, but keeping Christian out of the loop. It was clear that Christian, fully aware of this tendency, was pretty much attempting to pre-empt this by eliciting his agreement to have total transparency between them.

He supposed that at one point in his life, at one stage in their relationship he might have resented being 'managed' in this way, now he simply saw it as partnership – true partnership, where Christian would stand strong where he might falter, and he'd do the same for Christian.

It was this that allowed him to be brave, allowed him to believe that they'd find a solution to this no matter what; that he _could_ have his daughter in his life; that he could have this and not have to see Christian in pain every day Syed was with her. It wasn't either/or – couldn't be: no longer was he willing to compromise his own happiness, and certainly not Christian’s. There had to be a workable solution and he was determined to find it, sod everyone else, sod Fate, sod convention, sod the bloody 'rules'. They both wanted family, and they _had_ one: Christian loved kids, no matter who they belonged to – he'd love Yasmin, Syed knew he would: he was just waiting for _permission_.

“I know she's saying what she's saying, but Christian...” He put both arms around his neck. “I don't think she means it. No, seriously. She just needs time.”

“Sy, she's not over you. And I don't, I don't blame her. I never gave up on you, not ever, even when you broke my heart, even when you told me you didn't want me...”

Syed pressed his forehead gently against Christian's. “The difference, Christian...” He sighed, wondering how to explain. “You knew: no matter what I did, what I said, you knew. Giving up would have been stupid, since you knew I loved you, knew that despite everything I put in our way I wanted nothing more than to be with you. It's not the same for her: there's no way she could know the way you did, because I _didn't_ love her, didn't _ever_ show her – in bed, in those moments you just can't fabricate – didn't _ever_ show her I was hers. That's why I know that eventually she'll give up – there's not enough, Christian, not enough to keep her hoping. Not even with Yasmin as part of it. Yeah, we'll always have that connection through her, but once she stops hoping-”

“Stops loving you?”

Syed laughed at the scepticism in Christian's tone. “Well I know you think I'm irresistible, but it's not a view necessarily _widely_ shared.”

“Oh, I don't know – you're pretty _easy_ to love, Sy.”

Syed didn't reply to this, just stared into his eyes. “It'll be alright, Christian. I promise you.”

Sighing, Christian pulled him in close, bent to nuzzle his neck. “I know.”

Eyes closed, Syed drank him in, determined, utterly determined that this was one promise he'd make sure he kept.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  



End file.
